Lítterae Amatóriae Love Letter
by Tha1n0nlYVoyGirl
Summary: It's Valentine's Day abourd our lost ship. A female engineer who doesn't have a boyfriend to spend time with follows her Chief, complaining and nagging.


Title: Lítterae Amatóriae (Love Letter)  
  
Author: Voy_Girl  
  
Written: 13-14/2 2003  
  
Code/s: T, P, Ensign  
  
Summary: Valentine's Day story. P/T. B'Elanna is followed by a bitter member of her staff.  
  
Author's note: Yes. This is your average short Valentine's Day story. I admit it; I'm smitten  
with the day. And it truly is a great opportunity for sappy stories.  
  
Author's note #2: Why the title is Latin; it's a very beautiful language with amazing words.  
  
DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything Star Trek in any form! However 'Ensign Mariah  
Jones is a product of my imagination.  
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"Lítterae Amatóriae (Love Letter)" by Voy_Girl  
  
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Mariah Jones sighed deeply behind B'Elanna Torres. Who, in her turn almost hit her head in  
the low ceiling above them.   
The two engineers were crawling through stuffy, almost forgotten Jeffries Tubes searching for  
a malfunctioning gel pack.  
  
"What is it?" B'Elanna growled when her heart began to beat with a steady rhythm again, the  
shock of the sudden noise behind her repressed.  
  
The two women resumed their clumsy trot while Mariah excused herself. "I'm sorry Chief. It's  
just that today is Valentine's Day, and I don't have anyone to share if with."  
  
"Don't you have friends?" B'Elanna commented dryly, recalling her younger colleagues as a  
giggly bunch.  
  
"Yes, I do! But you know what I mean; a boyfriend!"  
  
"Why is that such a big deal?"  
  
"You see, I've always had dates for Valentine's Day before, but since I got on Voyager..."  
Mariah sighed, barely avoiding to place her hand under B'Elanna's boot.   
"You've got Lieutenant Paris, so I bet you'll get a nice day."  
  
B'Elanna murmured something indecipherable and thankfully spotted the gel pack, which  
appeared around a narrow corner as her rescuer.  
  
It was early morning, she hadn't eaten more than an apple, thus the 'most romantic day of the  
year' wasn't one of her top priorities.  
  
***  
B'Elanna suppressed a yawn and took a bite of her sandwich to stop herself from saying  
something at all.  
  
Mariah Jones had followed her Chief around almost the whole day, it seemed. Now they even  
had lunch together, more or less enthusiastic.  
She told stories about her long gone Valentine's Days so frequently that B'Elanna found the  
apparently very often dated Jones boring. In-between the spoken lines she read as from a book  
she literally spelled out that she saw herself as underfed with love.  
  
During this one day every year, the increasingly bitter Mariah got the chance to view her world   
and all who entered it through a magnifying glass, painted with a deep red shade.  
  
B'Elanna took another bite of her wholemeal bread, covered with Neelix' pet topping for the  
week; paprika. Red, of course. Neelix even cut some specimen as unique hearts.   
  
The Chief Engineer scrutinized her half sandwich and luckily she didn't find anything  
resembling to a heart, although gasps and various giggles reassured her that others did.  
  
Mariah had finally gone quiet at her place two striking empty chairs away from Torres.  
She dug indolent round in her plate of plain, replicated maccaroni sprinkled with thyme.  
  
B'Elanna noticed what a bizarre, hollow-eyes appearance Jones could gain when she actually  
expressed boredom and loneliness. If she didn't act like she was interested, she did not deserve  
it either. She thought, 'Perhaps you'd get a date on board too, if you didn't visibly turn into a  
tenacious grey mouse among everyone else.'  
  
**  
  
Tom plunked down at one on the chairs in-between his girlfriend and the shallow acquaintance  
Mariah Jones. She was a part of that nameless, faceless dull mass he met in the hallways every  
now and then. The ones that just seemed to flow about in their own little spaces.  
  
"Hey," he greeted the two women, forcing the oppressive silence to slowly descent.   
  
B'Elanna greeted him back, but Jones stared blankly and completely open at him.   
  
"I have so much to do that I don't even know which day of the week it is!" Tom complained  
briefly before bending over the filled lunch tray.  
  
Out of his view, literally over his head, the women's eyes met. B'Elanna frowned slightly,  
showing no interest in telling Tom about the day.  
Jones said nothing either and B'Elanna was quite sure she wouldn't.  
  
A twinkle formed in the Ensign's pale eyes, at same time as a scornful grin caressed her lips.  
  
As Mariah stood up and left the table, the greater part of her maccaroni still on the plate,  
B'Elanna followed her overall almost unnoticed staff member with her gaze. She was sure that  
Jones was nothing but bitter for her own sake; a condition which probably had got worse  
during the period with her Chief Engineer.  
  
***  
  
At exactly half past then that night, the chime on B'Elanna's door rang twice in line; brief,  
stressed signals.  
  
The occupant inside was brought back from the mists of an old Klingon fable, and while she  
put it aside she ordered the door open.   
  
When it slid open, it revealed Tom Paris, obviously in a hurry. He smiled dutifully and held out  
a single, red rose in front of B'Elanna's puzzled face.  
  
"I thought you were working in sickbay tonight again", she frowned and let him in.  
  
"I've got half an hour's break," he explained and sank down in the sofa after she'd accepted  
the rose.  
  
"At lunch you didn't know the day of the week."  
  
"I know. It's not like me to forget things like this," he sighed.  
  
B'Elanna sat down next to him, as close as she could without accidentally hitting him with the  
rose, which she spun between two fingers.  
"Seems like you remember after all."   
  
"I was reminded barely an hour ago. By someone who in fact didn't have an errand in  
sickbay."  
  
"And who was that? Cupid?" B'Elanna smiled; a smile which soon would fade and cause  
thoughts which would make it difficulty to sleep as soon as she'd rest her aching head on the  
pillow.  
  
"Actually... It was Mariah Jones."  
*******  
End  
******* 


End file.
